


Five Long Years

by elinadsy



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: F/M, Post-The Dying of the Light, pre SPX, pre skulduggery pleasant resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 22:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11723937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elinadsy/pseuds/elinadsy
Summary: Like a drowning man misses the land, he had once said to her, a joke that wasn’t really a joke, and when he reads her name he’s reminded just how much he’s treading water.-Snippets of Skulduggery's life post Dying of the Light and pre SPX.





	Five Long Years

**Author's Note:**

> just a short little drabble thing. I'd like to a proper reunited etc fic, but we'll see! In the meantime, thanks for reading! The zombie unicorn scene is a reference to the lovely Mooncactus's amazing work "He said she says" (http://archiveofourown.org/works/2270490/chapters/4988037). If you haven't read it, PLEASE DO.

“I’m leaving,” Valkyrie says in a rush down the phone.

 “I’m sorry?” He says after a moment, waiting for her to say something along the lines of  _ I’m leaving now, I’ll be there shortly _ , but she doesn’t say anything.

 He’s sitting in his armchair, in the home that was a house until her presence demanded necessities like a bed, hot water, food, picture frames. The clock is ticking, and Skulduggery hears her breathing hitch.

 “I’m leaving, Skulduggery. I can’t… I can’t stay here. I look my folks in the eye and all I see is how I lied to them for half my life, I see Alice and I-” her voice hitches again, thick and wet, and shame trickles down his spine. He’s forgotten what hot and cold feels like but that shame, shame at the horrific things she’s gone through because of him, that shame is surely what cold feels like.

 “Of course,” he says after a lifetime, after  _ two _ lifetimes. “Where where will you go?”

 “I’ve got Gordon’s inheritance,” she says. “I’m not sure. I’ll figure something out. But I need to leave.”

 “How do your parents feel?” he asks cautiously, and she gives a short bark of laughter that is as drier than his bones. 

 “I haven’t told them yet,” she confesses. Of course she hasn’t, he thinks. 

 “When are you going?”

 “Tomorrow,” she says, and if the heart he didn’t have skipped a beat before, it’s flatlining now. “Tomorrow morning. I’ve booked the flight.”

 “I see,” he says.

 “Don’t,” she says.

 “Don’t what?”

 “Don’t- don’t act like you knew this was coming and you’re fine and you’re going to be all mature about this.”

 “I don’t know what you want me to say, Valkyrie,” he says with a gentleness that he doesn’t feel. His other hand grips the arm rest so tightly he feels the fabric tearing. “If you need time away, I support you.”

 She says nothing, and if his hearing wasn’t so superb, he’d think the line had disconnected.

 “Do you need a lift to the airport?” he asks quietly, hopefully.

 “No,” she says, and after a long pause, she hangs up. 

-

He doesn’t hear from her until several days later.

 Every time he passes through the living room, he avoids looking at those finger shaped tears in the armrest.

-

“ _ What do you mean, she’s gone? _ ” Tanith says down the phone. It’s a month later, and people are starting to ask where he’s been. 

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he says flatly. He holds the phone to his ear as he looks in the fridge. All of Valkyrie’s food has gone off. He stares with absent interest at the mould growing on her leftover fried rice.

“ _ Where _ ?” Tanith demands. 

“I don’t know,” he replies.

“ _ What do you  _ mean _ you don’t know _ ?” she says.

“It means,” he says, irritation leaking into his voice, “that I  _ don’t. Know. _ ”

-

China sips her tea as they sit across from the on going work. Skulduggery’s facade is on. He doesn’t want to speak to anyone he doesn’t have to.

 “Have you heard from her?” She asks.

 The leather of his gloves creaks as his fist tightens just a little. 

 “Not since Christmas,” he says.  _ Not for eight months, fourteen days.  _ He’s not sure how many minutes. He’s trying not to be obsessive.

 “How have you been keeping busy?”

 He looks at her quickly. They haven’t spent much time together since the revelation that she played a large part in the death of his wife and child. Unsurprisingly, it’s a thought that plays on him.

 “The usual,” he says. “Odds and ends. A lot of people are under the impression I have nothing better to do than help them solve painfully domestic mysteries now that the world’s demise has been averted.”

 “For now,” China smiles. “Give it a couple of years. The Darkly prophecy isn’t too far away.”

 “Thank God,” he says. “And here I was thinking I’d have to retire and take up knitting.”

 For a second, the banter warms him, and he waits for Valkyrie to say something sufficiently dry and witty. But it’s just China and her all-knowing eyes. 

-

Skulduggery flings himself behind cover, gun out, the zombie unicorn charges him and punts him across the field. He turns his arc into flight and comes back to where the unicorn is stamping and neighing and it’s all extremely boring.

 Sam Gladly looks up at him from where he’s bleeding out and looks extremely unimpressed. 

 “Fuck’s sake,” the Englishman says, as his zombie unicorn horn wound begins closing up. “Do you reckon I’ll turn into a unicorn? Or a zombie?”

 “Maybe you’ll get lucky and turn into someone with a brain,” Skulduggery says half heartedly. 

 “Weak,” Sam says, grimacing as his skin seals back over.  “You’ve done better.”

 “I don’t get a lot of banter these days,” he says, and shots the unicorn between the eyes. With its’ brain dead, the rotting thing falls to the ground. They both look at it.

 “I wonder if I’ll grow a horn,” Sam says, standing back up. “I should probably go get checked out, huh?”

 Skulduggery shrugs, and that’s when it happens.

 His phone beeps. 

It’s not just any beep. It’s  _ her _ message tone. The first few bars of  _ Me and Mrs Jones _ . He doesn’t move. 

 It’s been almost three years.

 “What if I wake up and I’ve grown hooves,” Sam is muttering, bending and picking up his staff. “Can you imagine? Cheng Jiu will never let me hear the end of it.”

Skulduggery says something in agreement, and takes out his phone. Before Tanith left, she made him get the new Iphone. 

 He hesitantly lowers his gaze to the message.

 “Hey,” Sam says. “Hey, what are we going to do with this?” Skulduggery snaps his head to look at him. Sam is nudging at the unicorn with his foot. “I should probably give China a ring, hey.”

 “Sure,” Skulduggery says. “Excuse me. I need to reply to this.”

 Sam says something but Skulduggery is already turning away, walking away, and when he has a modicum of privacy, he lowers his eyes and looks at the message. 

_ Like a drowning man misses the land _ , he had once said to her, a joke that wasn’t really a joke, and when he reads her name he’s reminded just how much he’s treading water. 

_ Xena says hi _ , is all it says, and there’s a photo attachment; a German Shephard on it’s back, looking at the camera adoringly. Then she sends another photo. A photo of the outside of a house, and then an address.

 Consummate professional detective that he is, he scours the photo for detail. A house with hardwood floors, white painted walls; the corner of a grey rug, a coffee table with a book (he can’t see the title). Finally, he sees three toes in the corner of the photo, as if her leg is stretched out.

 He stares at those toes intently. Then he looks at the outside of the house. Saves the photo. He knows he will never go there, knows the photo was meant for him to show Fletcher if there was ever a reason for him to go there. He types and backspaces and types and backspaces.

_   Are you okay _

_  I missed _

_  Why do you have a dog _

_  Warrior princess, really _

_   What book is that _

_   When are you coming home? _

 He stares at that one for a long time and doesn’t press send. Then he comes back to Sam, who is also on the phone to the Sanctuary.

 He snaps a picture of the corpse. The picture isn’t right. He takes a photo of the corpse again, but this time he makes his hand into a thumbs up sort of pose and puts it in the frame.

_  Mr. Ed says hi back _ . 

_  Read at 02:15 _ , it says, and she doesn’t reply.

-

Three and a half years, and Skulduggery hands in his resignation forms to China, who sits on her throne and looks down at him. He looks at a point just past her face. One great positive of not having eyeballs is that it’s hard for people to figure out if he’s actually looking at them or not.  

 “I’m sorry it had to end this way,” China says. She sounds genuine, but Skulduggery is once again so acutely aware that China is such a good actor that she even fools herself. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

 “I’m certain,” he says. And then he turns around and leaves.

-

Four years and a quarter. It’s Christmas Eve, and Skulduggery sits in his house, staring at the empty fireplace.

 All the photo frames are turned down.

-

He’s driving when she rings him, and  _ Me and Mrs Jones _ plays almost all the way through before he can process she’s ringing him. He pulls over immediately (several cars honk their horns furiously) and lunges for the phone.

 “ _ Hi _ ,” she says, and he sags in his seat. 

 “Hello,” he says.

 A pause.

 “ _ I need you to come get me _ ,” she says, and it’s all a little too much, those words put together. He can barely follow her. “ _ A couple of sorcerers found me and a mortal got dragged into it. One’s dead and we fought the other off. _ ”

 He feels fury licking at the innards long gone from his body. “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

 “ _ I’ll go into more detail when you get here _ ,” she says. “ _ But I’m safe. Don’t panic.” _

 “Good,” he says, and she doesn’t reply immediately. “I’m glad. That you’re safe.”

 “ _ I’m glad too _ ,” she whispers, but he doesn’t think she’s talking about the same thing.

 “I’ll get Fletcher to teleport me there, and we’ll make our way to an airport,” he says. “Does that sound okay?”

 “ _ Yes. Thank you _ .”

 “You’re welcome,” he says. And then, he gets to say the words he’s been waiting to say the moment she left.

 “I’ll see you soon,” he says.

 “ _ See you soon _ ,” she echoes.

-

Fletcher leaves him there with a supportive squeeze on his shoulder blade, and he climbs those steps, every moment dragging by like oil on glass.

 He stands outside the door and knocks. Several minutes later, the door opens.

 And there she is. He sees immediately, sees the dark rings beneath her eyes, the flatness in her vision, how she holds herself like the world sits on shoulders that used to be strong. She’s smaller than he remembers, thinner. But it’s Valkyrie, in front of him, for the first time in five long years.

 “Hello,” he says. He wants to touch her. 

  He doesn’t.

 “Hi,” she says, a little shyly.

 A pause, laden with things both of them want to say and have no idea how to.

 “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he says instead. “It’s certainly a house.”

 “Thanks, I built it myself,” she replies. “From the ground up. Attached the cabling and everything. Pretty impressive, huh?”

 He nods, whistles admiringly. “I really like the bricks. Good bricks.”

 “Yeah, they’re well behaved. Do what they’re told. I’m trying to train them to do tricks at the moment.” 

 “I think that’d be like talking to a brick wall,” he says, and he watches, enraptured, as her lips crack into a little smile.

 “You goon,” she says, and it isn’t as biting as he remembers.

 But it’s a start.


End file.
